


Out of the Ashes

by Siobhan_Schuyler



Category: White Collar
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Community: whitecollar100, Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siobhan_Schuyler/pseuds/Siobhan_Schuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They have less than an hour so instead of packing they light a fire in a garbage can in the living room and sit around it in the dark, flinging IDs into the flames.</i>
</p><p>My contribution to WhiteCollar100's prompt #99 - "Burn".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Ashes

Montreal, December. It's the coldest it's been yet and they've managed four months in the one-bedroom walk-up. Peter had picked it because of its proximity to the train station. El for the light that came in through the large windows. Neal because of the pâtisserie it was located over.

They have less than an hour so instead of packing they light a fire in a garbage can in the living room and sit around it in the dark, flinging IDs into the flames.

"Martin Winger," Neal says, tossing the passport in with a dangerous sort of glee dancing in his eyes.

Peter, meeting his gaze, takes a deep breath and tosses a driver's license into the blaze. "Jeffrey Benet." 

He looked over at El, who is grinning, looking excited. Her face glows in the firelight when she throws in her own ID. "Janet Laurenti." 

There's a silence afterwards, contemplative more than aggrieved. The papers crackle as they burn, a faint acrid smell of plastic wafting from the bin. "May they rest in peace," Neal says solemnly, grinning up at his partners.

"How long do we have?" Peter asks.

El looks at her watch. "Forty-eight minutes."

"Cuttin' it close," Neal smiles. He seems disinclined to move.

"I can practically smell Hughes' aftershave from here," Peter chuckles. El grins and links her arm with his, leaning against his shoulder.

Neal reaches into his back pocket and retrieves a folded manila envelope from which he pulls out three sets of passports, driver's license, and plane tickets. 

"Out of the ashes," he murmurs, and hands a set each to Peter and Elizabeth, who take them eagerly.

"And into the frying pan," Peter breathes out, but he looks at his new name and squares his shoulders, game for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Also set in this verse: [Pis-Aller](http://archiveofourown.org/works/412525).


End file.
